


The Conjuring Turn

by TheDiamondSword400



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Could be more if you want it to be, Dance terms, Friendship, Magic, Misto Likes him anyway, Past Abuse, Pre-Canon, The Conjuring Turn, The Rum Tum Tugger is Awfully Annoying, Tugger and Misto Friendship, magical learning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21682858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDiamondSword400/pseuds/TheDiamondSword400
Relationships: Mr. Mistoffelees & Rum Tum Tugger
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70





	The Conjuring Turn

Quaxo took a deep breath and closed his eyes, centering himself.

He could could feel the magic that made his fur sparkle like the night sky rippling like the ocean tide both on and under his skin. His shortened tail twitched nervously.

He could do this.

Focus.

Breathe.

He lightly kicked himself off and felt the magic swell within him as he started to spin.

He couldn't help by smile as his fouettés picked up speed. His magic always came more readily to him when he danced.

His magic had always felt a little like a river dammed up inside of him while growing up. The tricks he used to amuse himself and the rest of the tribe only requiring a few drops of the power inside him. The problem was that the magic seemed unsatisfied with such a limited form of release, practically a creature unto itself in the mind of the young cat. Demanding and creating a building pressure within the hapless tom who was unable to use more then a trickle of what was inside him. And afraid of what might happen if he was able to succeed.

Until he had attended his first ball.

Dancing in the junkyard under the Jellicle Moon with the rest of the tribe his magic had come alive. It had seemed to sing within him, flowing out freely for the first time. His mystical powers had swelled especially when he spun, light crackling at his finger tips.

Under the power of the Jellicle Moon the other cats hadn't questioned why the yard had lit up in changing colors and patterns. Until after that is.

Old Deuteronomy had taken him aside and poised gentle questions. Quaxo had been feeling a bit faint at the time, his magic had retreated back behind its dam when the power of the Jellicle Moon had released him. But he had still been able to answer clearly and it had been decided that he needed a teacher to help him harness his abilities.

Coricopat and Tantomile had already been highly respected and accomplished members of the tribe at the time, skilled in the mystical arts. But their talents, while considerable, were restricted to the mental variety and so were unsuitable as teachers for the conjuring tom.

Macavity had merely been a bit of a social pariah at the time since suspicions were not enough justify banishment. And since the criminal cat was the only one with any powers in any way similar to the tuxedo's abilities the ginger cat had become his teacher. It was only a few weeks later Macavity's true colors had been revealed and he was kicked out. The other members of the tribe had been concerned the evil cat might have harmed the young prodigy in some manner but Quaxo had quickly put their fears to rest.

They couldn't have helped him anyway.

He stumbled suddenly, taking a few unsteady steps before falling to the ground. Quaxo hissed in frustration as he screwed his eyes shut against the memories flashing through his mind. He would never admit that Macavity had used the 'lessens' to perfect his darker talents, including his ability to control another cat's will. But the ginger tom had taught him one thing, though it had been unintentional. Quaxo was the only cat capable of breaking the other cat's hold on his mind.

That was a cold comfort at the moment though. The memories of Macavity's lessens kept resurfacing every time he tried to give his magic free reign. While he had been fortunate not to come away from his association with the criminal cat with any physical scars or emotional complexes, he had not been unaffected. Every time he attempted to allow his magic its desperately sought after release he saw the ginger face of Macavity smiling cruelly as he waved a clawed hand in Quaxo's face.

The young tom took a deep breath and felt a wave of determination settle in his bones. This would be the one thing the criminal cat would not steal or break.

He would do this.

Pushing himself back to his feet, Quaxo rolled his shoulders as he settled back into a plié. Brow furrowed into a fierce expression he whipped his foot out and spun.

He felt his magic swell up again within him.

Six perfect turns.

Macavity's face rose before him but he firmly forced himself to ignore it. His magic sparked and spat with each kick of his paw.

Twelve perfect turns.

The stars flared in the heavens as his magic flashed across his finger tips.

Eighteen perfect turns.

THUMP!

Quaxo yelped in surprise at the sudden sound, scrambling to regain his balance as he twisted around towards the source of the noise.

The Rum Tum Tugger gazed down at him from atop the trunk of the TSE-1 car, thumbs hooked in his belt “What you up to, Kitto?” he asked, quirking a brow.

The tuxedo scowled, lips curling in a barely restrained hiss. While he usually enjoyed the maned cat's presence while he practiced, this was not one of those times. And the Rum Tum Tugger was the definition of distracting.

He was also impossible to get rid of if you wanted him the leave.

Tail flicking in aggravation, the younger tom puffed up his cheeks and huffed out a sigh “I was practicing.” he confessed at last, deciding it wasn't worth it to ignore the larger tom. The other cat would just make a bigger nuisance of himself if he tried.

Tugger jumped down from the car and strode up to him quickly, eyes alight interest “A new trick?” he asked with an energy usually reserved for a cat's favorite food or toy as he looked about for some clue to what the smaller cat had been practicing.

Quaxo couldn't help the warmth that spread through him at this. Tugger's excited pride at every new trick he did always made him feel like he was the greatest thing since canned fish. The reason behind the usually self-centered cat's attention was also one of the tribe's greatest unsolved mysteries. Quaxo just chalked it up to another example of the maned tom's contrary and 'disobliging ways'.

“No.” the tux sighed, allowing himself a small appreciative smile at the interested attention he was getting despite his frustration “Not a trick. Not this time.”

Tugger glanced at him, brows raising as a curious light entered his eyes that was not unlike that of a hunter chasing a mouse. With anyone else such a look would precede a rapid and unrelenting interrogation. But with Quaxo he remained silent. He knew the tux well enough to know that the younger Tom would explain if given a chance to plan out his words.

“You know how my magic responds when I dance. With certain moves especially.” he said a last, brow furrowed deeply as he mapped out his words.

Tugger nodded. The two had discussed that interesting quirk of the black cat's abilities on multiple occasions.

“I had found that it responds best during a fouetté. And . . . I guess you could say I was experimenting?” he shook his head in frustration and scratched at his right ear “No. that's not quite the right word. I feel that if I can do a certain number of fouettés that . . . something will come of it.”

Tugger rocked back on his heels. He frowned thoughtfully as he mulled on the other cat's words, jaw working as if he was literally chewing on it “How many do you need to do?” he asked at last, tone distracted as he continued to turn it over in his mind.

“Twenty-four.”

Tugger flinched as he jerked himself out of his thoughts rather violently and eyed the tuxedo cat sharply “Twenty-four fouettés?” he demanded, stunned.

Quaxo nodded.

Tugger's face gave a little shrug as he ruffled his mane “Twenty-four.” he muttered, mostly to himself “Impressive.” he pursed his lips, eyes squinting in thought as he tilted his head back in thought. He was silent for a minute in consideration then glanced back at the smaller cat “How many have you been able to do?”

“At most? Nineteen. I keep being interrupted.” the black cat said, shooting the maned cat an accusatory look that went ignored.

“Have you tried doing it the music?”

Quaxo blinked and stiffened, taken aback by the question “Music?” he repeated uncertainly.

“Fouettés are a dance move, aren't they?” Tugger shrugged, ruffling his mane with a satisfied smirk “It's easier to dance with music.” Technically Jellicles would still dance without any music quite often. They didn't need much of an excuse to bust out a move. But music made everything better.

The black and white cat considered the suggestion. It was a bit outlandish but that was to be expected in light of who made it. “It could work.” he consented thoughtfully “But were are we going to get music?”

Tugger shot him a pointed look, smirking in amusement.

“Ugh.” Quaxo face-palmed in embarrassment “Of course.”

Over the last few years before every ball he cast a spell that made it so that the music best suited to those singing or dancing would play. It was so far his greatest accomplishment and his proudest work.

_How had he forgotten?_

He waved a hand and felt the magic settle over their surroundings.

Tugger stepped back to give him room and made a dramatic sweeping gesture as he silently urged the younger cat to give it a try.

The tuxedo rolled his eyes in fond amusement and settled himself once again into a plié. He shot a quick look to the side and the maned cat gave an encouraging nod. The small black and white cat smiled and kicked off into a spin.

Lively brass notes filled the air in the yard, the ebb and flow perfectly in time with the magic swelling back up inside him.

Six.

The magic within him, which flowed so freely whenever he danced, responded eagerly to the accompanying music. Motivating him to raise his arms every third turn, bursts of light flashing from his fingers.

Twelve.

His powers flared in an arch from his toes as he whipped his leg out on each turn. The music turned to a rapidly building drumbeat and he extended his leg straight out as he continued to spin. Energy extended outward, glittering light spreading in a spiral pattern across the ground.

Eighteen.

Clear and visible magic rippled over the surrounding junk piles under the wide and wondering eyes of the Rum Tum Tugger. The gutted husk of the oven shivered as the magic flowed over it, the number 12:00 appearing in the long empty hole it had once prominently been displayed in. The engine of the TSE-1 car sputtered and purred happily to life despite the fact that it had none.

Twenty-four.

The magic gave a last ecstatic shout, crashing like a tsunami within him, and he threw himself into a somersault as he completed the last turn.

The magic settled contentedly beneath his skin as he sprang back to his feet, a wide grin spreading across his face. The impenetrable dam within him was gone, replaced by what could only be described as a door. The magic behind it free to be used however he wished. It was an exhilarating feeling.

“You know you might need to come up with a stage name.”

Quaxo blinked and turned in surprise to see Tugger eyeing him with an amazed look. The tuxedo tom rolled him eyes and punched the other cat playfully on the arm

“You're incorrigible!” he laughed in disbelief. The Rum Tum Tugger was such a irrepressible showman! Quaxo for himself would rather just enjoy his success for the moment. Flashing his friend a last wide exhausted smile, he trotted off in the direction of his den.

Tugger watched him go, sliding his thumbs along his belt in in consideration. He hummed thoughtfully to himself and looked up at the night sky. Quaxo a good name for a young Jellicle with a few amusing tricks but it was not a fancy enough name for one capable of the magic he had seen tonight. Yes, the younger cat definitely needed a stage name. And a song to go with the music that had filled the yard a few minutes ago.

_“Oh, well. Never was there ever a cat so clever as Magical Mister Mistoffelees . . .”_


End file.
